


The Sailor and The Siren

by IllegalCerebral



Series: CM Bingo 2019 [9]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Shipwrecked, Attempted Murder, Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, High Seas Adventure, Mermaids, Rescue, Sailors, Shipwrecks, Sirens, Thunderstorms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-29 20:07:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20802230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IllegalCerebral/pseuds/IllegalCerebral
Summary: A great, cold darkness pressed on him. It reminded him of a boy on the street he grew up who would squash bugs under his thumb ever so slowly so that the poor creatures’ bodies were half separated from their legs before they’re registered what was going on. Strangely though Spencer didn’t feel afraid. What was fear good for in the grip of something so titanic? If this was dying maybe it wasn’t so bad. Spencer was sure he heard somewhere that returning to the sea was returning home. It was a comforting thought as he stopped being able to tell where his body ended and the water began. All he was aware of was numbness and then, for the briefest of moments before unconsciousness took him, gentle hands.After the death of his mother Spencer wants nothing more than to escape. He manages to find passage on a ship set to sail further than he has ever been but peace for Spencer will be found where no ship can reach.





	The Sailor and The Siren

The port was crammed with people either boarding or disembarking ships, moving cargo or waiting on loved ones. Spencer gripped his letter of recommendation tightly as he stared up at the masts swathed in ropes and rigging and the men preparing her for the open ocean. The more he stared the more he saw how all her elements fit together. She was a world all of her own and one he longed to explore.

The largest two ships belonged to the Navy, officers striding about in their pristine uniforms while the men marched in line. The next largest ship was a whaler just returned from nine months at sea with barrel upon barrel of oil. The smell was revolting and it hung heavily in the air. The smallest vessel was a merchant ship bound for the North Sea. This was his destination and, he hoped, his salvation

“What are you gawping at?” came a voice. A man in a smart coat and hat stopped directing the sailors and strode over to him, suspicion clouding his face. Spencer thrust the letter towards him. A friend of his mother, a learned man from the university, had taken pity on him after she had died and offered him work. What Spencer wanted more than anything though was to leave his childhood home, once a sanctuary and now a place of grief and mourning. Everything there reminded him of his mother and the fact he would never see her smiling face or hear her comforting voice ever again. His only choice was to go far away where the sadness could not catch him.

“You don’t have the look of a sailor,” the man announced. Spencer tried to square his shoulders and puff out his chest but it only seemed to stretch out his gangly frame, making him appear more ridiculous in his oversized clothes.

“I’m a hard worker” he insisted.

“You look like the wind will blow you over board”

“I can navigate, both by map and by stars. I can work out trajectories in my head quick as anything. I’m stronger than I look too”

“So you know your numbers”

“Test me” Spencer stared down at the man. He itched to board the ship, to escape and feel the ocean underneath him. Anything was better than staying here with no family, no friends, and worst of all no prospects.

“No need,” the man held up a hand, “We need more hands on deck but if you’re dead weight I swear to God Almighty I will drop you off at the nearest port with nothing except the shirt on your back. Are we clear?”

“Crystal” Spencer grabbed his bag and followed the man up the gangplank. Burly men jostled past them carrying sacks of everything from spices to wool to salt. The ship felt different beneath him; there was lightness that did not exist on land. There was also slipperiness as the boards were slick with seawater. A young boy was trying and failing to clean with a broken mop and Spencer struggled to stay upright as he wove in and out of the sailors, trying to keep up with the man.

“I’m Rossi the first mate. Captain Gideon is below deck in his cabin. He won’t come out until we set sail” He almost tripped over some sacks at the top of the stairs. “If these are still here when I come back up then someone is getting flogged,” he bellowed. Turning round he grabbed Spencer by the arm and pushed him down first.

The smell of oil burning hit Spencer immediately; nothing was visible in the dingy lamplight. Then came the creak of the wooden floor, the smell of sawdust and the sizzle of something down the narrow hallway.

“That’s the kitchen” Rossi pointed, “Derek Morgan is the Quartermaster. The Captain and us are the final word on anything that happens on board. Morgan!”

A head emerged from the kitchen and as the door opened the smell of cooking meat wafted out. Spencer’s stomach growled.

“When was the last time you ate?” Rossi’s eyes narrowed. Spencer shrugged. That all depended on the definition of ‘ate’. “Quartermaster is in charge of doling out rations. No one gets more than their fair share”

“Looks like he’ll pass out from hunger any moment if he isn’t picked up by a seagull first first” laughed Morgan, “Here” He shoved a roll of bread towards Spencer, “Tell anyone I gave you extra I’ll deny it and you’ll be on half rations for a month”

With a mouthful of bread Spencer couldn’t reply except to nod vigorously. His throat ached with the unfamiliar sensation of swallowing decent food but he didn’t care.

“What exactly are you going to get him to do?” asked Morgan.

“Hotch needs to train a new Sailing Master. The boy knows his numbers”

“Sa-ing Ma-er?” Spencer asked, crumbs spraying everywhere.

“You said you could navigate” Rossi shrugged, “Our current Sailing Master is retiring after the return voyage. Got a wife and a young boy he hasn’t seen in years. We need to replace him and educated men are hard to come by. Don’t dawdle, it’s this way. Morgan I’ll call on you later”

Spencer swallowed the last of the bread with a twinge of sadness before following Rossi round corner and up more stairs. The ship was a labyrinth but finally they found themselves in front of the Captain’s cabin where an argument was raging inside.

“Damn it not again” Rossi sighed before pounding on the door.

“Go away” a voice bellowed. Spencer’s heart nearly leapt from his chest when Rossi barged in anyway.

“Captain this is the new Sailing Master’s assistant. Spencer this is Captain Gideon and our current sailing Master Aaron Hotchner. We call him Hotch”

Spencer pulled off his hat and nodded to each.

“Captain. Sir”

From Gideon’s heavy breathing and his mouth twisted into a scowl it was clear the man was moments away from a brawl. Hotch’s face in contrast was a mask but his knuckles were white, his fist was clenched so tightly. They both turned to him, eyes raking him over like a horse at market. Spencer half expected them to check his teeth and feet.

“He” Gideon jammed a finger in Spencer’s direction before slumping down at his ornate desk, “is no sailor”

“He has a head for numbers” Rossi passed the recommendation letter to Hotch.

“I will have no man on board who cannot pull his weight”

“I will Captain!” Spencer was proud his voice didn’t shake, “And then some”

“Once we’re back in port I’m done” Hotch’s voice was softer than Spencer expected “Sailing masters are worth their weight in gold despite what you may think at this very moment. Most of them are forced to work for pirate crews. This one has fallen into our lap, it’s a blessing you should take advantage of”

Gideon scowled at Spencer once more.

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-four”

“God help us” Gideon let out a bark-like laugh, “Fine. He’s yours to do with what you will Hotch but if he becomes a burden you cut him loose”

“Aye” Hotch’s voice was tight

“And regarding what was just spoken? I expect you to follow orders”

Hotch gave a curt nod and stormed out. Spencer merely stared after him until Rossi nudged him and nodded towards the door.

“Mr Hotchner!” Spencer hurried down the hall after him.

“It’s just Hotch” the older man sighed, “Are you sure you want to lose yourself at sea for eighteen months?”

“I thought the voyage was a year?”

“Captain Gideon and I fundamentally disagree on the route we’re taking. Eighteen months is a hopeful guess if the weather and tides are with us. It might be years before you see this town again”

“Good” Spencer jutted out his chin in what he hoped was a defiant manner. Inside his heart was pounding. Hotch raised an eyebrow but it gave nothing away.

“Down here” he walked off, “I’ve got maps and charts, show me what you can do”

***

Life on the ship was difficult. Hotch drilled him hard with the calculations for the bearings. Alongside that was duties doled out by the boatswains Luke and Matt. Spencer learnt more in the first six weeks than he had in the previous nineteen years of his life.

It was both exciting and terrifying. Mistakes were not tolerated and so Spencer’s body was pushed even harder than his mind. When he was able to snatch a few hours sleep, every muscle hummed with pain and there was no way to lie in his hammock to relieve it. He was usually so tired though that sleep overcame the hurt.

“You’re getting the hands of a sailor” Rossi clapped him on the back one night as he dabbed a foul smelling ointment on the fresh layer of blisters on his palms.

Spencer had almost burst with pride at that. He knew the men looked at him in a certain way, like a disaster waiting to happen but Hotch protected him from the worst of it. A few snide comments and some rough handling was an easy price to pay for freedom and Morgan and Rossi at least had warmed up to him.

Gideon remained unimpressed. The captain spent most of his time in his cabin, occasionally barking orders when the door would open a crack. There were murmurs amongst the crew that he wasn’t eating or sleeping, that he wandered the deck under moonlight, muttering to himself.

Rossi and Morgan did their best to quash any whispers of dissent but as the voyage dragged on and Gideon’s calls for changes in the course they were taking became increasingly bizarre those whispers became louder.

“You don’t say much” Hotch came up beside him as Spencer watched the sun emerging from the horizon one morning around nine months into the voyage. The sight still took his breath away.

“Seems like there’s plenty of people to do the talking” Spencer shrugged. For the first time since he met the man, Hotch smiled. It was a little tight and twisted but it was a smile nonetheless.

“Gideon keeps promising the men prizes beyond their comprehension” Hotch turned to the sunrise, “He believes that if we keeping pushing onwards we’ll find something remarkable”

“Why?”

“Gideon thinks he knows everything there is to know about the sea. He’s a superstitious man, if he thinks the sea had turned against him he may do something drastic”

The smile was gone, the near permanent mask of concern descended once again.

“Why are you telling me this?” Worry twisted Spencer’s stomach into a knot. Seafaring was dangerous, he was under no illusions especially given the fact he had not been trained for this, nor did he possess natural sea legs. However this is the first time Spencer had been aware of the threat posed not by the sea but by men.

Hotch didn’t answer his question.

***

Three more months passed and supplies dwindled. They were so far off course that they reached beyond the edges of all Hotch’s charts and maps. Then the wind dropped and the ship drifted lazily across a still ocean. The whispers of dissent had grown into shouts.

“We’re going to die out here,” Hotch told Spencer. None of them had eaten a proper meal in several days and the water rations were becoming smaller and smaller. At the very least, Spencer thought, he would see his mother again.

The tension was shattered by a great storm, like the hand of God crashing down on all of them. Spencer wasn’t even sure the ship was the right way up as he clung to rigging, wave after wave battering them. Every so often lightning would illuminate the whole horrible tableau: a man thrown across the deck by the howling winds, the mast cracked, the sails torn and useless and on the upper deck Gideon looking like a man possessed. He was screaming something but the wind and thunder were too loud of Spencer to hear.

Morgan and Rossi were pleading or fighting with him. Spencer strained to make out what they were saying but was torn away by Hotch grabbing him and pulling him towards them.

“We need to change course or the ship will be ripped apart,” he bellowed. The gale tore the words from Spencer’s lips before he had a chance to speak them so he just gestured wildly to Hotch.

“Damn him, he’ll kill us all” With no warning Hotch dragged Spencer up there with him and finally they could hear Gideon’s proclamation.

“I can do this, we can make it” Gideon stared out into the distance. All they could see were the inky black storm clouds and the waves growing bigger by the second.

“Captain this is madness” Morgan yelled.

“We need to turn the ship Rossi,” said Hotch, “Please it’s the only way to save ourselves”

Gideon turned to Spencer. The glazed look was gone and Spencer felt like his very soul was being burnt away. He should have spoken; he should have joined Morgan and Rossi’s protestations. Instead he was frozen in place and for a brief moment he could have sworn that the terrible howl of the wind was something more than a storm. This was primordial, summoned from the depths and never witnessed by mortal eyes before. “We can make it, we just need to…” Gideon whispered. Still Spencer couldn’t bring himself to answer.

Then he did not have the chance too. Gideon was stronger than he looked. Despite Rossi, Hotch and Morgan grappling with him Gideon was still able to drag Spencer across the deck. The sheer amount of water meant there was no way Spencer could regain his lost footing and his desperate scrabbling at the Captain’s arm could not slacken his vice like grip.

Someone shouted his name. Someone shouted the Captain’s name too but that was lost to the storm as Spencer was thrown over the side. The decent was slow, the side of the ship seemed go on forever and Spencer could see every board, every nail and every porthole as another crack of lightning tore the sky in two.

He did not even register hitting the water.

A great, cold darkness pressed on him. It reminded him of a boy on the street he grew up who would squash bugs under his thumb ever so slowly so that the poor creatures’ bodies were half separated from their legs before they’re registered what was going on. Strangely though Spencer didn’t feel afraid. What was fear good for in the grip of something so titanic?

If this was dying maybe it wasn’t so bad. Spencer was sure he heard somewhere that returning to the sea was returning home. It was a comforting thought as he stopped being able to tell where his body ended and the water began. All he was aware of was numbness and then, for the briefest of moments before unconsciousness took him, gentle hands.

***

When Spencer awoke everything was white, he wasn’t even sure he had opened his eyes properly. Shapes shifted in the blinding light but they were so fuzzy he didn’t know what they could be. Squeezing his eyes shut provided some respite but it also made him aware of the pain in his chest and leg.

“Don’t move,” said a soft voice as something wet and cold was dabbed on his torso. It was an easy enough request to adhere to, the slightest movement sent shockwaves of agony through Spencer and so he was content to just lie there. He didn’t even have the energy to be embarrassed when he realised his clothes were missing, every inch of his skin exposed to a soft breeze.

Spencer wet his lips to speak; the salt crust stung his tongue.

“The storm…”

“Over” the woman placed a hand on his cheek. It was a strange sensation but Spencer couldn’t think why. He wished he could open his eyes. “You were thrown to the sea and the sea threw you back”

“Didn’t want me…”

“The sea or your crew”

A tear rolled down his cheek and Spencer’s throat began to burn.

“Both…”

Spencer didn’t remember anything after that. When he woke again the sun was rising over the ocean. He was lying under a canopy made of sticks and driftwood lashed together to protect him from the elements and his chest was caked in a greenish mud that smelled of salt and something similar to herbs but nothing he recognised. The throbbing in his chest was gone. The ground was covered in leaves that made a surprisingly comfortable place to sleep and his clothes were folded neatly next to his head. There was no sign of his boots but there was a bowl filled with water.

Spencer pushed himself up onto his elbows. While the pain had subsided his chest instead felt strangely tight, like he was packed with rocks. It took a long time for him to move from that position so he was sitting up. His body protested but finally Spencer was able to reached for the bowl. He smelled it and then dipped his finger in. It was cold, but more importantly when he lifted his finger to his lips it’s fresh water not salt. The thirst he didn’t know was consuming him drives Spencer to noisily swallow the whole bowl in one slurp, rivulets of water cascading down his chin and neck, into the mud on his chest.

A snort of laughter made him freeze, the last bit of water catching in his throat and making him cough.

“Breathe” the woman instructed him, “You haven moved for four days. You need to be careful”

The first thing Spencer noticed was she was beautiful. It wasn’t really a coherent thought, more like a wave hitting him. It was accompanied soon after by the realisation that he was completely exposed before her in more ways than one and then he noticed her skin.

Scales, just a little darker than her skin but with a fine, gold shimmer, covered her bare shoulders, her fore arms and the back of her hands. The gauzy fabric wrapped around her didn’t look like anything Spencer had seen before. It rippled like water as she moved to kneel beside him, firmly but gently easing him down. Her legs were scaled too and so were her cheeks.

“Where am I?” he croaked, “Who are you?”

“Elle”

Spencer frowned. He looked at the freckles on her nose like a splash of stars across the open sky. He studied the way her hair fell about her face like the waves when the ocean is calm and how her eyes, even then when she was looking at him with concern, were dark like the sea during a storm.

“Elle is my name, the island has none,” she explained. A smile tugged at her lips, “I have some fruit, and then when you’re more awake I’ll take you down there so you can wash this off”

Embarrassment seized Spencer once more. He hated feeling helpless but as Elle cut off slices of a fruit he didn’t know and held them to his trembling lips the helplessness gave way to something else. He felt restored. It reminded Spencer of his first few weeks on the ship before everything became twisted and knotted with fear. The juice was sharp and sweet and nothing like the stale rations he’d been surviving on. When he finished Elle slowly helped him to his feet.

“I feel like an infant,” he grumbled, leaning on her as they walked across the dunes towards the sea. Spencer tried to look around. From what he could see the beach was ringed by a lush forest with thick trees covered in vines and dotted with stunning flowers. Behind the forest rose a great white cliff where birds nested in crevices and at it’s crest stood some kind of stone building. Elle didn’t let him stop and look, she guided him in the water slowly so he could adjust to the coolness.

“Your skin’s strange” she remarked, running her fingers over the goose bumps on his arms in wonder. Her own skin remained soft and smooth, even on the scaled parts.

“It’s the cold,” said Spencer. He was waist deep now and as they moved further the water began to lap at the thick coating of mud. To his shock Elle began to brush it away, stroking his skin. His face grew hot while hers remained completely unchanged as if this was all totally ordinary. It made him feel a little light headed.

“Who are you?” he asked. Spencer knew he should push her hands off him and wash himself but her movements, tender as they were and like nothing he had ever experienced, transfixed him.

“Elle” she said, slower this time like he was simple.

“No I mean. What are you?” Spencer reached out and took her hand, his thumb running along the scales. For a moment he thought she would get angry but instead she laughed.

“We don’t have a name for our kind” she said, “Or yours. I’ve never met one of you before, only seen the…” Elle made a gesture with her hands, outlining some shape in the air.

“Ship” Spencer realised, “They’re ships. They carry us over the water”

“Can’t you swim?”

“Not that far” said Spencer, “In my case not at all”

Her look was one of disbelief but also pity and in that moment Spencer had the strange feeling he didn’t want to move from that spot, he wanted to stay with this woman, holding her free hand while the other lay comfortingly on his torso. Perhaps almost drowning had addled his brain. His mouth was dry and his heart fluttered in his chest. Spencer was a man of learning through and through; he had never been given to such notions before.

“I’ll teach you” Elle smiles, “For now though you need to rest, can you make it back to shore?”

“What about you?”

“I’m going fishing”

It was a sight to behold, Elle slipping beneath waves and shooting off like an otter. If there had been any doubt she was more than human before that was gone now. No trace of her presence made it to the surface and after a moment Spencer stiffly waded back to shore, every so often turning back to see if Elle was visible.

The sun warmed his skin and Spencer pulled on his clothes. They were dry but stiff from the salt water. He walked around the little structure, too tired to venture far but still fascinated by what he saw. His mother had collected books about plants and animals but none of the flora he saw around him matched the carefully sketched pictures.

At the thought of him mother Spencer’s heart ached, though not for home, and panic began to creep in, as the ocean waves remained unbroken. Perhaps Elle had gone, disgusted by what a weak creature he was. The idea that he couldn’t swim or fend for himself was probably abhorrent to someone like her.

Before panic had a chance to turn into despair four dead fish landed on the sand in front of him and Elle looked at him in bemusement.

“You’re upset”

“No” Spencer wiped his eyes with his sleeve. The salt made them sting, tears continued to roll down his cheeks. Elle reached out in fascination and gently brushed one away with her fingertip. She looked at him questioningly. “It’s a tear” he half whispered, “Our eyes water sometimes”

“Why?”

“It keeps them clean. Or we make tears when we laugh really hard…or when we cry” he added, shifting from side to side.

“Don’t cry”

Spencer wanted to protest that he wasn’t crying, it was all the blasted salt but he couldn’t. Somehow he knew she would see right through him.

“You caught these?” he gestured to the fish, “Do you want me to cook them? I’m sure I could start a fire with some of the driftwood”

“Cook?”

***

Revulsion and fascination battled across Elle’s features as Spencer turned two of the fish over the flames a short while later. He had wanted to cook all of them but Elle was unconvinced and saved two to be eaten properly in her words.

“Here, be careful it’s hot” Spencer handed her one of the fish on a leaf broad enough to act as a plate. Elle’s tongue flicked out and her eyes narrowed. Spencer bit into his own fish with relish. Aside from the fruit that morning it was the freshest thing he had eaten in months and Spencer revelled in the taste and texture. Elle raised an eyebrow as Spencer ate the last of it, spitting out the bones. “I suppose you’re used to eating fish raw”

“Its nicer” Elle passed him the barely eaten cooked fish, “Try it”

“Umm…”

“I tried your _cooked _fish” Elle pointed out, “Even though it destroyed the flavour and made it all dry and strange”

Actually it was better than Spencer expected and he finished it all. There was a look of triumph on Elle’s face.

Soon enough the sun had begun to set and despite his protests Elle guided him back up to the shelter.

“You’re skin is strange again” she said as she laid him gently down on the soft leaves.

“S’cold” he mumbled.

“Oh!”

Something warm and heavy chased the chill away and just as Spencer sunk sleepily into the feeling he suddenly realised what it was.

“Are you…are you going to lie like that all night?” his voice was strained. Elle wriggled, burying her face in the crook of his neck, which did exactly nothing to make him feel more comfortable.

“Body heat keeps you warm” she yawned, “You’re very delicate” If it wasn’t so obviously true in that moment Spencer may have been offended.

“I thought you hadn’t met anyone like me before”

“No but I heard stories”

Her breath tickled his neck and he could have sworn her felt her lips brush the sensitive skin below his pulse but it may have just been their proximity making him jump to conclusions.

“This kind of thing is improper,” he mumbled. That made her sit up and look at him bemused. “I mean…being this close. People would think that we…”

“We…are…not freezing to death?”

“No” Spencer dragged the word out, “They might think I was taking advantage of you”

Another ‘oh’ followed by silence. The light was fading fast and Spencer couldn’t make out Elle’s face. He waited for her to pull away but instead she just settled down in the position she was before.

“You can’t take advantage. I’m much stronger than you”

A few moments later her breathing deepened leaving Spencer lay there in shock and a few other emotions he could not name.

***

As Spencer’s strength came back Elle showed him more of the island and told him about her life. He learnt she had sisters but they were not blood sisters, rather her people raised children collectively to keep them safe while some of them left their colony to hunt and barter with others across the water.

In turn he tried to explain about his life on the surface but he stalled when telling Elle about his mother, how she had been so vibrant and full of life until one day she was not.

“You miss her” The concept of a mother may have been alien to Elle but grief certainly was not. Life under the waves was as dangerous in many ways as on land.

Elle tried to teach him to swim and almost managed it. Spencer hated putting his head under and he often swallowed a lot of seawater by accident and then had to sit on the shore to let the nausea pass. Watching Elle swim was thrilling though. Following that first night with Elle when she tried to keep him warm, he had woken up tangled in her limbs. The second thing he had noticed was the delicate gills on the side of her throat. Strangely, he found them fascinating, pleased (and a little shy) when she allowed him to brush them gently.

“These help you breath under water!” he whispered. Of course he knew she could, how else could she have gotten the fish? But seeing them was still mesmerising. “I don’t have anything like this”

“I know I checked,” she answered brightly.

“You ch-when?”

“When you were unconscious”

Spencer flashed back to the state he had woken up in and wondered how else he had been examined when Elle pulled him from the water.

Elle had been travelling home when the storm had hit and she had headed to the surface to see the ship being tossed around in the giant waves. It had been the closest she had even gotten to humans before.

“I saw him throw you over” Elle didn’t meet his eyes. Weeks were edging into months and they sat side by side on the beach, the water lazily lapping their toes. Despite the midday sun both felt cold.

“You saved me. Why?”

“I don’t know yet,” said Elle, finally looking up. For a moment Spencer forgot how to speak, “Come on” Elle stood, breaking the tension, ‘I am determined to make a swimmer of you”

***

Spencer wasn’t sure when it first dawned on him that he didn’t miss home or the ship, that he had been so caught up in everything that he didn’t realise how completely he had accepted this as his new normality.

The shelter on the beach had been reinforced and repaired a number of times over the months but it was no longer fit for purpose. Elle watched Spencer as he drew out plans in the sand with a stick, his ambitious for the structure growing.

“I suppose I could mix some sort of clay out of the sand and build something more permanent. The trick would be getting it to bind though-hey! Where are we going?”

Wordlessly, Elle led him by the hand into the forest, breaking away from their usual route close to the beach to a narrow path that led deeper. He wasn’t afraid; there was something so reassuring about being in Elle’s company that Spencer didn’t question anything. As the road grew steeper he realised they were ascending the cliff.

Excitement fluttered in Spencer’s chest. Elle had to release his hand so they could climb, the path was steep in places, and they had to cling to the rock. Finally the trees began to thin and then the path evened out and they emerged at the top.

“This is…” Spencer looked out at the view, the ocean spreading out in all directions, dark and beautiful. He saw the beach stretch around the island, parts of which he had never visited.

“Spencer” He turned at Elle’s voice, her expression closed like she was worried. Then he saw the house. It was the stone building partially visible from the beach but it was only up close that Spencer recognised it for what it was. It was a cottage really, with a stone wall surrounding it and a thick, thatched roof. There were even windows though they were thick with grime and the place had seen better days. Remnants of a garden filled up the yard and vines clung to the wall.

The smell inside was musty and stale but the furniture was intact. The ground floor was one big room; there was a fireplace at one end with a table for eating at and a small washing and food preparation area. The other end had two comfortable chairs, a thinning rug and a bookshelf filled with books that had turned to dust. The stairs was directly ahead and with a nod from Elle, Spencer headed up. The bedrooms were small, one holding just a double bed and the other held a cradle.

“Whose house is this?” he was compelled to ask though the emptiness was screaming at him not to. His chest constricted.

“A man, one of my people and woman who came here on a ship like you. It was a very long time ago”

There was a blanket in the cradle with a delicately stitched flower design. It was so thin that when Spencer held it his fingers were visible from the other side. Elle stared down at the ground, “They found it too hard. He gave up, came home. He did not protect his own” the distaste in Elle’s voice was palpable.

“The woman?”

“Took a sailboat and rowed” Elle pointed out the window, “There is another island about ten days sail that way. It’s empty but ships stop there every year or so to resupply”

It had never occurred to Spencer to ask if there were any other humans nearby or an outpost or any way for him to return to civilisation. Now, standing here, it was so painfully obvious whay. Elle’s gaze returned to the ground, she nudged the dust on the floor with her bare toe. Gingerly, Spencer approached and with a shaking hand tilted her face up to meet his.

“I wouldn’t find it hard” he said, “I could…I could make a life here. Fix the house, plant a garden…raise a family”

Her eyes searched his face but he held firm, Spencer meant every word. The idea of staying here felt right, it felt natural. It was like he had finally found the peace he had been searching for. He should really kiss her, he thought. God knows he had wanted to for a long time.

Elle beat him to it but Spencer found he didn’t mind. She tasted of the sea like he expected but the kiss was warm and firm like her embrace. It was like coming home.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a CM Bingo 2019 entry, the square is Reid x Greenaway


End file.
